


Only A Prayer

by chaebeom (adustum161)



Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Guardian Angel AU, M/M, but not just yet, eventual explicit things, so I rated it mature as a warning in the future
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:14:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adustum161/pseuds/chaebeom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The collection of the GA Series shots, where Jackson learns about the most human of things from a very not-so-human individual. He's known Jackson for years, but has loved him forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Paper Cuts

 

 

 

 

_His halo is a blade, spins so fast that it looks like a ring of light. Dangerous, that's what it is._

* * *

 

Jackson doesn’t think he’s religious. He remembers tagging along with his mother when he was a child, going to church every Sunday, but that was until he hit the age of sixteen, when he told his mum that studying was much more important.

He never did, though. Since then, church is a distant memory, religion much the same.

It was the third day of winter when Jackson first sees it. Of course the night before he had been watching horror movies with Mark, and thought that his brain was playing sick games on him, like an aftershock from all those fake CGI shots and gore. Jackson stares, waves his hand in front of his eyes, and the thing, doesn’t go away.

Jackson ignores it.

Eventually it leaves.

The fourteenth day of winter and it returns. Jackson wasn’t watching any horror movies the night before, so now he has no excuse. His muscles are rigid because whatever it is, it’s huge and terrifying, he can feel it staring at him and Jackson wants nothing to do with it.

It almost looks like a person, but no matter how hard Jackson rubs his eyes, it’s always out of focus.

It leaves again, and Jackson has more questions than answers.

“I swear to you, I’m not crazy!” Jackson speaks loud into his phone’s receiver while eating leftover Chinese with a plastic fork.  
“Well has anyone else seen it?” Mark’s voice is on the other line, and it sounds like he’s bored. Well, he always sounded like he was bored.  
“…No…but I’m not joking!”  
“I believe you man, it’s probably your messed up sleeping schedule that’s doing this to you. Hallucinations and shit.”

Ten minutes later, after Mark talks about his new job at this dance studio then hanging up because his “friend” was coming over, Jackson is staring at the off-white walls of his apartment. It can’t be hallucinations. Yes, he worked the night shift at the local restaurant, and yes, he didn’t sleep till very weird hours during the day, but he’d been doing that for years.

It wasn’t a proper explanation for the sudden appearances of a terrifying shadow that almost looked like a person but did nothing prove it was one.

One month later, almost thinking it was a hallucination after all, Jackson comes home from work after a very long shift and he sees it again.

The only catch is he can see it clearly.

And he can’t believe it.

On his drabby old leather couch, is an angel. Not like a person that people would describe as an “angel”, but an _actual Angel_. Wings and all.

“What the fuck,” is the first thing Jackson says. He’s surprised he could say anything at all.

“Language.” The voice is ethereal, otherworldly (rightfully so) and Jackson feels weak in the knees _because what the fuck there’s an Angel in my apartment_. He doesn’t know what to look at first. The wings are huge, spread out slightly so the angel can sit with his back against the couch. The tips of each feather are dipped in gold, and Jackson has this sudden desire to reach out and touch them. His eyes are drawn toward the angel himself now, paying close attention. The angel’s features are sharp, defined. Its hair a dark crimson and atop his head a glowing halo. He’s handsome, no doubt, but the way the angel is looking at him kind of makes Jackson feel a little small and insignificant.

“The fuck you mean language?” Jackson blurts out, dropping his workbag by the door. He can fix that up later. Right now he rushes to the windows, closing the blinds in case anyone can see. He can imagine the neighbours now:

_No really, I saw an angel!_

“Exactly what I mean, Jackson. Language.” The voice is deep, laced in something sensual and each syllable is dipped in husky golden honey.

Jackson can’t breathe all of a sudden. It knew his name too? Wonderful. What a good start to the weekend. The angels’ hands are in his lap, one leg crossed over the other and it wears a neat white suit, every button done up. It moves to stand, wings lifting so they don’t knock anything over and in one fluid movement, they snap shut.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” it says.

“This has got to be some kind of joke,” Jackson stutters, his hands fumbling at his sides and the angel is so intimidatingly beautiful Jackson feels like he’s going to burst into flames.

“It’s not a joke.”  
“Who are you?”  
“You know me.”  
“Do I really?”  
“I’ve been with you a very long time.”

Jackson draws a blank then. Wouldn’t he have noticed? Wouldn’t he have noticed this white-suit wearing, gold feather dipped, incredibly beautiful angel following him around?

Obviously not.

“Have you eaten dinner yet, Jackson?”  
“What?? No!”  
“You should eat something.”

Jackson frowns, challenges the angel to a staring contest but he loses in five seconds flat and goes to the fridge, taking a container of pasta out and putting it into the microwave.  
“Can you tell me who you are at least?” Jackson mutters, staring at the clock on the microwave, finger hovering over the ‘stop’ button, ready to press just before the timer hits zero.

“Your guardian,” it says.

Jackson laughs, almost snorts because this has seriously got to be some kind of joke. A guardian angel and it chooses now to appear? Why not earlier? He decides to play along. Maybe he’s dreaming this entire time.

“Alright then, guardian, you got a name?”  
“Jaebum.”  
“Okay Jaebum, nice to meet you.”

Jaebum chuckles. It sounds like bells and Jackson feels blood rushing to his face as he presses the ‘stop’ on the microwave.

“It is nice to meet you too, Jackson,” Jaebum replies. He’s taken to leaning against the wall now, and when Jackson turns to put his pasta into a bowl he’s stunned all over again by the sight of the other.

“Is uh, that real?” Jackson uses his fork to point at the halo atop Jaebum’s head.

Jaebum frowns for a moment, confusion washing over his face. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You picked a hell of a time to make a grand appearance, so excuse me for being a little sceptical here,” Jackson leans against the kitchen bench, eating his pasta with a trembling hand. His fork shakes against the porcelain bowl, making a slight ‘clinking’ sound each time he reaches for more food.

“Are you alright?” Jaebum walks over, stands at the other side of the bench, and when Jackson looks up from his pasta his eyes go wide. Oh, he’s closer now.  
“Yeah ah, I’m fine.”  
The next few seconds go by in a blur.

Jackson’s free hand, combined with his inherent curiosity, reaches up to touch Jaebum’s halo.

“Ow! Fuck,” and Jackson pulls his hand back, putting his finger into his mouth. The copper taste fills his mouth and he grumbles.  
Jaebum’s eyebrows are raised in amusement. “I told you it was real, Jackson.” There’s laughter in his voice and Jackson just wants to eat his pasta and go to bed.

“Yeah well you gave me a damn good paper cut,” Jackson pulls his finger out of his mouth to inspect the damage, and it’s nothing bad, but it’d be annoying for the rest of the week.

“Let me.” Jaebum reaches over, taking Jackson’s hand and pulling it towards him.

Jackson feels a myriad of things.

First, Jaebum’s hand is warm. The kind of warm that reminds you of home, of your mother’s arms.  
Second, Jaebum’s hold is firm.  
Third, Jaebum was incredibly gentle at the same time.

“What are you—” Jackson goes quiet when Jaebum inspects his finger, before touching it with his thumb. The stinging fades and it was as if there was no cut at all.

“Better?” Jaebum asks.  
Jackson is still quiet as he pulls his hand away, looking down at his finger, a frown set deep into his face.

His voice comes out in a small murmur.

 

“Better.”


	2. Fresh Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's barely been a month since Jaebum has decided to show himself to Jackson. Jaebum likes making entrances, but Jackson likes it. More than he should.

 

  _I breathe him in, slowly, deeply. He fills my lungs and decorates it with gold._

 

 

* * *

 

Jackson doesn’t tell anyone about what happened that night. Not even Mark. How could you even tell someone that kind of information?

_Hey, funny story I came home from work and my guardian angel was waiting for me at home!_

If Jackson couldn’t think of a smart enough reply, then it was probably a good idea to keep his mouth shut.

Jaebum’s visits are frequent. Appearing at random times and ducking in and out during the day, Jackson still jumps in shock when he sees wings in his peripheral vision. He probably wouldn’t ever get used to seeing them.

“You gotta stop doing that,” Jackson says one morning, the shock of having Jaebum sitting at the end of his bed jolting him awake.

Jaebum shrugs, broad shoulders clothed this time in a simple white button-up shirt. He wears a pair of dark grey slacks, his feet bare. “You sleep in too late.”

Jackson makes a face, his eyes still scrunched up from sleep and as he sits up, the sheets bunch around his waist, exposing his bare chest. “I’ve always slept like this.”

Jaebum’s gaze lingers on Jackson’s chest, and Jackson feels blood rush to his face.

“It’s unhealthy,” Jaebum replies, his tone short and to the point. A second passes and his wings ruffle slightly, stray feathers falling to the floor. Jackson blinks, watches the air carry the feathers down gently and he thinks that if he collects them all would Mark think he’s weird for suddenly having a feather fetish?

Probably.

“Everything is unhealthy, Jaebum.” Jackson scratches at his chest, his eyes slowly getting used to the sunlight that filled the room.

Jaebum looks nice in the natural light. The gold in his feathers shimmer a little, his crimson hair a dark splash on a white canvas. Jackson notices two small moles above Jaebum’s left eye, and he smiles a little.

How funny that even Angels had marks like that.

“Stop staring.” Jaebum’s tone carries the tone a parent would have scolding their child, and Jackson huffs.

“Right, of course the angel tells me, a _human_ ” Jackson stresses the word “that I can’t stare.” He makes another face. “What, no suit today either?”

“I was being formal.”  
“So this is smart casual then?” Jackson laughs a little at his own joke, and Jaebum raises a brow.

The awkward silence tells Jackson that Jaebum probably doesn’t understand jokes. That sucks.

“Did you want me to wear a suit all the time then?”  
“Please don’t.”

Jaebum smiles, his eyes turning into two perfect crescent moons.

Jackson sighs. _Ugh_.

They sit like that for a while. Jackson with his back against the headboard, and Jaebum sitting at the end of the bed facing Jackson, legs crossed and wings hanging over the edge. Jackson’s mind is racing. It’s barely been a month and here he was, sitting across from his “guardian angel”. He wonders if Mark has one. Wonders what they’d look like. ~~Would Mark be interested in his guardian the way Jackson was~~?

It’s a good thing Angels can’t read minds.

Jaebum ruffles his wings again, more feathers falling and with a tilt of his head, he speaks. “You should go out for a walk.”

Jackson’s pulled out of his reverie. “Eh? What?”

“A walk. You know.” Jaebum lifts his hand, and mimics walking with his fingers.

“Ha ha, I know what a walk is. Why?”

“Because fresh air is good, and I want to go outside.”

Jackson’s eyes widen slightly from Jaebum’s words and the growing need to go to the bathroom.

“You can’t go outside?” Jackson asks.  
“Not without you.”

Something tugs in Jackson’s chest. His heart beats a little faster and he gets out of bed, his track pants hanging low on his hips. He walks to the bathroom without a reply and he feels Jaebum’s eyes on his back. Great.

This was stupid. Of course Jackson would act this way. Jaebum is handsome, he was an angel, and it’s not like God made ugly Angels, did he? Jackson wouldn’t dare ask Jaebum that, not if he valued his life.

And he did, very much.

He decides to take a shower. Washing off the oil in his hair from the restaurant and the smells stuck to his skin. Jackson scrubs his body to the point where his skin is a light shade of pink and when he hops out he feels good. Wrapping a towel around his waist and combing back his damp hair, Jackson opens the bathroom door to find Jaebum laying on his bed, wings spread wide.

Jaebum’s wingspan is huge. The very tips of his feathers are brushing against the walls and Jackson stares.

“Uh.”

Jaebum looks up, stares at Jackson’s chest again. “Yes?”

“You should ah, I need to…get to my closet.” Jackson points to the closet by the bed, blocked by Jaebum’s wing.

“Mm, you need to change. I understand.” Jaebum sits up, and pulls his wings back.

“Are you gonna leave the room?” Jackson asks.

“I’ve seen you naked.” Jaebum’s tone changes, grows deeper, slower. Sensual.

Jackson’s jaw drops. “That’s…nice.” He manages to walk to his closet, and opens the door, standing behind it so Jaebum can’t see. He dresses quickly, grabbing the first pair of boxer briefs he sees and pulling them on the second he drops his towel. After that Jackson is too lazy to co-ordinate anything, so he puts on a pair of black jeans, a white shirt, and picks up his towel to dry his hair before putting on a snapback.

Jaebum leans forward and peeks around the closet door. “Can we go now?”

Jackson huffs. “Yeah we can go—are you just gonna hover next to me or something?”

Jaebum laughs, slides off the bed and makes his way toward the door. “People will think you’re crazy talking to yourself.” He disappears, and Jackson is left annoyed and confused.

“Stupid angel.”

* * *

 

Thirty minutes and a large caramel cookie latte later, Jackson is sitting on a bench in the park. A tree nearby gives him shade from the sun, and he sips at his drink, watching the people go about their business. He feels a presence by his shoulder and sighs, mumbling against the rim of his cup.

“You have a thing with grand appearances.”

Jaebum snorts. “I appear the way I want to.”

“Did you want me to carry a confetti gun for when you arrive then?”

Jaebum doesn’t reply, instead makes this growling noise at the back of his throat and Jackson laughs, taking another sip of his drink.

It’s not like Jackson doesn’t have any friends. He has many. Maybe because the entire concept of this is so baffling, so weird (and wonderful) that when he talks to Jaebum, things feel a little…more peaceful.

“Jaebum—” Jackson stops when he sees Jaebum stand. “Wait where are you going?”

“There’s a puppy.” Jaebum doesn’t say anything else, and walks over to the puppy that stands next to its owner, and Jackson stares in awe.

The look on Jaebum’s face, almost as if it was a picture of joy itself. He’s grinning, his eyes those perfect crescent moons again and the puppy is loving the attention. It can’t see Jaebum, but it reacts to the Angel, jumping and playing around when Jaebum wiggles his fingers in front of its face.

“Yah!” the owner of the puppy frowns, and walks away, much to the puppy’s disdain and Jackson is grinning because Jaebum is.

“That was cute,” Jackson says when Jaebum finally decides to return.

Jaebum grunts, looking off to the side. “What? No.”

Jackson takes another sip of his drink to hide his smile. _Yes it was_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are you feeling it? cause I'm feeling it. These two smh.


End file.
